Destiny of a wand
by Mikkalea Luna
Summary: ONE-SHOT! The story of the most famous wand of all times. A circle of life and death, of weakness and strength and the temptation of power.   Told from the most unlikely witness ...


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or the Elderwand! Otherwise I would likely be dead already, based on the belief that the history of the Deathstick is in fact true … (The Tale of the Three Brothers is copied from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows, Chapter twenty-one)

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><p><em><strong>AN: **I am a little nervous about posting this, because it is the first time for me to post something in another language! I can't truly judge my skills in English, so please tell me if there are many mistakes. I have decided to post it anyway, but I would be very grateful if someone could look over it (Grammar, spelling, comma placement) for me. I know there are stories out there in very bad English, because even I had to wince at some of their grammar and spelling, but … ok, I am rambling … I just hope, that I am not as bad as that! Please tell me what you think of it and help me get a better grasp of the English language :-) Thanks!_

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><p><strong>Destiny of a wand<strong>

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><p><strong>"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.<strong>

**"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers unusually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.**

**"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.**

**"Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.**

**"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."**

**Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. **

**In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination.**

**The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon,he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Dead himself, and how it made him invincible.**

**That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-solden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.**

**And so Death took the first brother for his own..." **

This was the end of Antioch and I must say that I was not sad about his death. While I had only known him for a few days, his actions clearly showed that he was an arrogant and foolish man. He was not worthy of being my master!

Of course, my true master is my maker. The one mankind name The Grim Reaper, The Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse and He Who Rides the Pale Horse. They call him Thanatos or Azrael. He is the dark companion, the Grey Walker who stands above all things. But commonly he is known as Death. And it is he, who I truly belong to. He is my supreme Lord and he created me for one purpose only: To cause death and destruction, that he my reap, were I have sawn. This is my task and throughout all times I have followed it to my best ability.

In this first night I gave my Lord his first two victims.

The man, Antioch and I killed in a duel, and finally my former owner who was conquered by the greed of a thief.

Man are easily deceived and so, despite knowing were I came from and what happened to my first master, the thief took me as his own. I don't know his name anymore. He was not an important man and it is long ago, since he last held me in his grasp. Like Antioch before him, and many after him, he fell victim to the lure of my powers. Instead of carefully stealing in the middle of the night, he became bold and assaulted travellers in open daylight.

But as he learned to his own detriment, even a wand of invincibility can not win against many foes at once. A few weeks after he became my new master he was slain by a whole mob of outlaws who had heard his bragging.

It was a hollow victory for them, but a feast of great delight for my Lord. Before he fell, the thief took many of his attackers with him. And those remaining behind with me as their price, decimated themselves in heated arguments.

The last one standing I took as my master and, in secret, as my new victim.

Many years went by and I proceeded to do my duty to my Lord. It were years of bloodshed, gore and malice.

The greed of man is easily awakened and I made sure to be very desirable. Those who called themselves my masters, I granted great power. Because for everyone who has power, there are many of those who are powerless. And those did almost everything to obtain me. And I was quick, to go with them.

These were happy years for me and my Lord, but my greatest time was yet to come!

In the dark Age, a promising wizard became my master. Together we won many a battle, and the flow of freed souls was steady.

His name was Emeric, and such were our malpractices, that his fellow wizards called him Emeric the Evil.

By now, no one remembered who my creator was, but the legend that I gave my wearer unconquerable powers became known after Emeric vaunted himself with my property.

At that time an Anglo-Saxon nobleman heard of Emeric's deeds and in his heart his desire grew. And as his desire grew, his conscience corrupted more and more.

Their fight was gruesome and brutal. But at the end it was decided through deceit. And that is how it came, that one morning it was not Emeric who picked me up, but his successor.

It was time to lead a new master to his death, and so I obeyed the nobleman Egbert the Egregious until my Lord called again.

Long after Egbert's bones were nothing else than dust in the history of time I came upon another interesting wizard. He won me in a family feud and was able to keep me long years. He was one of those, who do not gloat and he was wise enough not to be deceived by the powers I could grant. Perhaps he even realised the trail of blood I left all over the Wizarding World. I don't know for sure. But he was the first, who did not become vain and haughty over my possession. Instead he saw me as a source of wisdom and used me in a way no one had ever before.

And I must say, I enjoyed it very much. After centuries of mindless battles and pointless contests, it became rather dull. Assassination, betrayal, theft, murder, trickery, deceit and everything that came with it. I had seen it all before. Countless times!

Godelot, that was his name, was a most appreciated change. He saw me as his teacher, and I showed him the most sinister spells and curses wizards can use. He was a wizard who could acknowledge the sweetness of true evil, the art of death and darkness. And with my help he wrote one of the darkest books of all times: "_Magick Moste Evile_ "

He was a very satisfying student, but while I was in his care I could not give my Lord his due. To compensate that, I finally taught Godelot one of the secrets of my Lord. The secret of the soul. I desperately wanted to corrupt him, so that he may send more victims to my Lord. And with my help Godelot went deep into the mysteries of life and death. But I miscalculated. He mentioned them in his book, and wrote the secret down on hidden parchments, but he feared the consequences and decided never to use them himself. And so, even while buried for a long time, the knowledge of a _'Horcrux'_ became known to mankind...

But while Godelot was not interested in personal power, his son Hereward was. He stole me from his fathers desk and then he lured him under a pretext in the cellar, where he killed him cold-hearted.

And so it began anew.

I was able to give my Lord many victims, because Hereward was a brutal man and after committing patricide there was nothing he would not have done! He died soon, by a poison attack and I was wrenched out of another pair of cold hands, to serve a new master.

Nearly two hundred years went by after Godelot's and Hereward's demise and nothing interesting happened. I changed my masters, or in some cases Mistresses, many times but not one of them were exciting to me. The only master I remember from that period is Barnabas Deverill, and that only because of the nearly laughable manner of his passing away.

After all, not many manage to survive a duel to the death with the help of an invincible wand, only to be murdered by their own physician while he treated their wounds after the fight! It was Barnabas misfortune that he confessed, under the influence of pain medication and the victorious high of the triumph, that without my help he would never have been able to win. He did not know, that the medico Loxias was ashamed of his weakness in the skills of fighting and that he secretly craved to do as Barnabas had just done.

His knife found the aorta and bloodless white hands could no longer hold me.

Loxias was for a very long time the last master of mine that was known to other people but my Lord and me.

He stopped working in his profession and became a truly dreadful fellow. Always seeking to become more feared in the eyes of society than before. He was a good master, and together we send many souls to my Lord.

But like any true villain he attracted those who liked to refer to themselves as heroes.

Arcus and Livius were such heroes. Arcus was the more ruthless of the two, while Livius had a great sense of honour and only fought for his beliefs.

But they had one thing in common: they both wanted Loxias death. Each one for their own reasons. Arcus wanted revenge for his brothers murder and Livius generally believed that Loxias needed to be stopped.

For once it was not me and my powers, the successors sought. And so I became just a token of their victory, after they assassinated him on a dark road. One of them took Loxias money and jewels and the other one received his other possessions and myself.

It is not important in the history of time which one of them became my master, but after Loxias death there was a long line of usurpers, that used me to their own gain, and ultimately their untimely death.

From now on the bloodshed, which was my Lords pleasure, happened more and more behind hidden doors and in secret, because the Dark Age was slowly coming to an end and murder was no longer so easily overlooked. But in the shadows my lure was undiminished and many still sought my powers.

My existence did a sudden turn again, after I came into the hands of Gregorovitch, an European wand maker. He was the first, who tried to explore my properties. Like Godelot before him did he not use my powers directly, but he tried to learn from them. Unfortunately for him, unlike Godelot he was prone to boasting and that was his doom.

He spread the word that he had learned from studying me, how to make more powerful and better wands. His strategy worked very well, and he sold more wands than ever before. Until one day, a fair-haired thief entered his office.

This thief should one day become a great servant to my Lord.

He entered the history books as the Dark Lord Grindelwald and I served him many years willingly. It was a refreshing change to be used for open killing again and I spilled the red juice of life, for my Lord to drink, delighted.

Then came the day, when I encountered one of the most interesting wizards I had ever met. It was a great duel, and I thirsted for the killing blow, but even the most powerful wand of all times can not win over the power of love. Gellert, who normally was a quite cold-hearted wizard did not want to harm his opponent gravely and so he relied on tricks to disarm him.

I may be the most powerful wand, and there is no curse I could not stop, no magical power I could not conquer. But even I am not able to hold myself against everything. And physical force is one of my weaknesses. When Gellert froze for a moment, while the brown haired man, in an daring move, jumped forwards and tackled him to the ground, I could do nothing to help my master. My master did not try to defend himself magically, and so the other man was able to wrest me out of my former masters grip.

I had a new master, but I couldn't give my Lord his tribute because Gellert was allowed to live on.

Albus Dumbledore. Never in all my years among humankind had I met someone like him. Even among powerful men, was he by far the mightiest. Had he been but a little darker or weaker in mind and moral, we could have been great! We would have been able to paint the world in red, in honour of my Lord. But he was the first of my masters who I could not gain mastery over. And for the first time I failed my Lord.

I felt the darkness that tainted his life, the potential that was just out of my reach. But he knew to well the dangers of my power. And he was the first one, who was truly prepared to wield me.

The following decades were filled with adventures for my master and me, but I felt the loss of pride, which normally came by fulfilling my duty. Death and Destruction had become unreachable for me.

Luckily Albus was unable to stop the rise of a new great servant for my Lord. He called himself _"vol de mort"_ in honour of my Lord, and the souls flowed freely once again.

I hoped that one day he would come to me. He would have been a great and useful tool.

My hopes were lost, when he was defeated by a little child and I contented myself with staying in Albus service for another few years.

Whispers went around, of _"vol de mort"_ not being dead, that he would come back again. My master believed them but I knew that it couldn't be true. My Lord is invincibly and once he has someone in his realm there is no escape.

But then Albus and I came across something, that I had almost forgotten! A Horkrux!

The bait that I had laid so many years ago for Godelot had finally found a victim!

And what a victim he was! _"Vol de mort"_ not only split his soul once or twice, but seven times! No wonder he was such a great servant to my Lord. He had completely corrupted himself.

And I hoped again, that one day he would become mine. The things he and I could do for my Lord!

But it should not be. When the time came, my master was defeated by an accident. And the one who did it, did not even realise what he had done!

The boy Draco Malfoy was an utterly weak creature and not worthy of being my new master. Nevertheless, I was relieved because if Albus plan had worked, my powers would have died with him and my service to my Lord would have been over.

I was buried with my old masters corpse and there I lay in darkness and waited.

Fate allowed itself a joke and the one I longed for came to free me from the grave. But he came not as my rightful master and I could not grant him all of my powers!

Yet he was powerful in his own right and even without my help he used me to the death of others. It was a bittersweet experience.

_"vol de mort"_ realised our problem finally, but it was to late. He killed the wrong man.

Even I, at that time, did not know who my true master was. I only felt that the master who had never wielded me was defeated by another one, but who, I could not say.

_"vol de mort"_ was victorious in his battles and many died, but that could not hearten me up.

I was no longer of use.

When the black haired boy came into the woods I did not see it. But when he stood before _"vol de mort"_ again in the Great Hall of Hogwarts and declared himself as my master I understood. And as he spoke, I recognized him and I was glad. Glad, that I had finally found my master. And on his command I killed the one that was for a short time my companion, to send him to my Lord as a gift.

The circle could start anew.

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><p><em><strong>AN:** I tried to only use facts that J.K. Rowling provided. But there were some cases were I invented something:_

_1. Godelot did mention the word Horcrux in his book "Magick Moste Evile", but there is no reference that he in fact discovered them or wrote them down anywhere else._

_2. I let Hereward kill his father, after he had looked him in the cellar. But canon only says, that he locked him in until he died._

_3. The history of Barnabas Deverill and Loxias is completely invented. While Barnabas was in possession of the Elder Wand and Loxias murdered him, nothing more about them is known in the Potter universe. The same applies to Arcus and Livius_

_**A/N: **Because it was told from the view of the Elder Wand, I tried to give as few information as possible. I imagine it has a narrow view of the world and is mostly emotionless. And even if it is sentient and powerful, it is not really independent. It interacts with the word through its current wielder... Also I hope it was clear that when it spoke from "my Lord" it always meant Death and not one of his human owners, which he called "Master"._


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